John Clarke-Whitfeld
(1770 - 1836)

I will rest on the cold turf
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from Eight Glees, Op. 4. Published in 1798, when Clarke was Master of the Boys at the Chapel Royal, Dublin.

The text is taken from Mary Robinson's novel "Hubert de Sevrac, a novel of the eighteenth century".
Lyrics: Mary Robinson

I will rest on the cold turf, the thistle shall drink my tears.
Grieve not, O spirit of revenge.
The sun will chase me, like a shadow over the desert,
and I shall be seen no more.
The ghost of my father calls;
his white robes wave in the tempest.
His beard is like the falling snow.
Mournful is his song; it moans
like the breezes of twilight,
it vibrates on the caverned rock,
it wakes me from my bed of thorns.
Gashed is his bosom; his hands are stained with gore.
His eyes are closed for ever.
O world, what are thy joys?
Where are thy comforts, offspring of sorrow?